Sherlock Gets a Kat
by Scar13tt-Ivy
Summary: Sherlock is lonely after John marries Mary. At least until a stray girl appears on Sherlock's doorstep with no food or home but a wit to match his own. Mild Johnlock with occasional tints of Sherlolly and a dash of parent!lock, slight OOCness due to Sherlock being desperately lonely and in need of a Kitty to take care of and bring to crime scenes. F&F/R
1. Chapter 1

SherlockHolmes was sitting on a chair, firing his gun aimlessly at the wall when he heard the door. _Perhaps it's a new case, or even better, John. No, that wasn't it. John would let himself in and any cases worth studying would've been noticed before now._ He got up and opened the door and looked down to see a small creature holding a gun to him. He stepped forward and pulled it out of her hands then slammed the door shut after pulling her inside. He went back into his apartment and she followed. She sat in his chair. Her hair was dirty, beyond normal grease, her clothes were rumpled and looked as if they've been worn for a week straight and there was a musty aroma wafting around her all of which would imply she hadn't bathed in a while. She sat there, her eyes flickering between emotions: rage, guilt, desperation, sadness, grief and loneliness. She was pale and thin as if she hadn't eaten but her clothes were designer and not too cheap. Obviously something bad had happened which had left her homeless and without a guardian. He opened his mouth to share his deductions but she beat him to it. She spoke tiredly in a soft, sing-sing Irish accent.

"You are SherlockHolmes. You're a detective consultant who uses the powers of deduction to solve crimes and you are often accompanied by . You're thinking 'Simple, she looked at my website." So I will be more in depth. You have a nicotine addiction that you control with patches, I saw a box in the rubbish and an already opened box on the way in but you do not smoke often because you don't have the yellowing of the teeth and index and middle finger. You used to live with someone but they are no longer here. That is most likely John, am I right? There are marks in the carpet where another chair once was but it was recently moved, meaning that it was an unnecessary reminder of your own loneliness. And I can tell that you've made your own deductions by now so I'll let you have a turn." He sat there, mildly amused by her amateur skills. He watched her. Considering her apparent filth she seemed very confident but at the same time she was shaking.

"You're obviously on your own, and homeless from the look of you. You're shoes have slime on the bottom as does you're hair, that would suggest that you've slept near a bin in an alley, but your clothes look mildly cleaner, they smell of the Thames. You sleep under the docks don't you? Why am I asking? I know you do. You're shaking but you don't really seem the kind to be afraid of talking to me. You haven't eaten in two or three days. Why are you alone?" He sat back and crossed his legs waiting for an answer. She nodded silently and she begun to tear up and scowl.

"Because of you." She accented each word through her teeth. He rolled his eyes.

"I don't see how it's my fault." He yawned. She stood up and handed him a photo. "This is JimMoriarty. He came from Dublin, parents deceased, one younger sister. He was batshit crazy yeah, but a good big brother. Until he found out about you," She knew that she had grabbed his interest. He raised an eyebrow and let her continue.

"He found out about you, he figured you could match his intellect. He devoted all of his time and effort to you. He made me hide. He still kept me sheltered and fed but I think it was just because it was his responsibility as my sole blood-relative. I don't think he really cared much. He was a lot older than me when I was born, our parents died shortly after. He had a short temper but a brilliant mind. So to avoid one, I appealed to the other. He taught me about observation and stuff like that and I'd help him sometimes, I didn't realise he was a criminal until you came along though. When that happened he sort of just swept me under the carpet." Sherlock studied her further.

"You have his eyes." He sat back in his chair, thinking intently. She stared at him sadly with said eyes. He couldn't look. He might end up feeling something. John, John had made him soft. She was hungry, dirty, skinny, and very much alone. She was also so very small. She was developed like a normal young woman though so she was more likely small for her age than just a child.

"How old are you, about 17? You're wise for your years and small for your age; that must get you into trouble from time to time." She smirked slyly but nodded. "It's not really my size and mind that gets me into trouble as much as it is my curiosity and tendency to be at the wrong place at the best time to make mischief." He watched her. She was like a stray black kitten, mischievous, dishevelled, and small. "Why did you come here? You don't seem vengeful so it's not for that." he muttered. "I-I'm...alone... I am here because I am alone. You are too. My entire family is dead, I have no one, no one to talk to, no one to match my wits, no one to care for me. No home, or food, or clothes, or money, I am alone. I came here because you are the only person who could possibly understand. Not just being alone in the world because of your mind, but being alone because of forces beyond your control taking the only one to make that pain go away. I came here because I need you." She tried and failed to hold back tears. Sherlock's response should've come more easily: a sarcastic remark, a witty quip, and then he'd send her off to... to where? Damn that John for making him soft, but in the short space of time he'd known her, she _had_ made an impression. He felt sympathy towards her. No, it went beyond that. He _empathised_ with her.

"What would you like for tea then?" he asked nonchalantly. She sat up. "What?" she asked in shock. Sherlock stood up from the chair and explained to her, "Well if you're going to live here, you're going to have to eat. You'll need to wear something else too. I might have something small enou-what exactly are you doing?" "It's called a hug. It's a way to show gratefulness and affection. In other words: Thank you, Sherlock, truly." Her big eyes shone as she smiled and he patted her back. "Yes, well, you need a flat, I need a flatmate. Now go clean up and I'll feed you." "You make me sound like a stray. Feed me, clean me, but you've not named me yet."

"What _is_ your name?" He asked, realising he hadn't bothered asking her before. "Kitty, now I really sound like a stray. I'm like your new pet Kat."


	2. Chapter 2

She sat, quietly waiting on the end of the bed and towel drying her hair. "Unbelievable. How small are you? Try this." He handed her a sweater. It was John's. John is small. She can't be so petite that even his clothes wouldn't fit. It was very baggy, but it would do. She seemed happy enough to just have something clean. "How long had it been since you've actually showered." He had on his poker face, but he was very sorry for her. Not that anyone could know. But he knew she had known all along how he empathised with her, just as she knew he would. She was clever. "Actually, I can't remember. I've scrubbed up in restrooms when I could, but not an actual shower since Jim went further off the deep end. About two years I guess." "You've beaten my record. I once went undercover and didn't bathe for a month. But then I took a four hour long bath to make up for it once everything was finished." She giggled. She was happy to have someone to talk to for the first time in forever and he was glad of the company. Things had been, _different_, without John around. He didn't have anyone to help with his cases, he didn't have anyone to question why he did anything so he could show off and he didn't have someone else in the flat just to make the place seem less empty. John was still on his honeymoon with Mary and wouldn't be getting back until next week and even then their time was limited with the baby on the way. John would want to be safer now.

"You miss him don't you, Sherlock?" she part asked and mostly stated. He put on his poker face. She looked at him knowingly but he maintained his straight face. "What would make you think that?" She just raised her eyebrow. "You moved his chair, you took in a stray, and you keep looking at your phone hoping for a message. That screams that you miss him." She sprawled over the end of the bed and smirked.

"Do you want food or shall I just lay out a saucer of milk for you?" he asked jokingly.

"Both please." she curled up on the bed as he left to the kitchen. She faintly heard a phone ring but she fell asleep quickly.

Sherlock answered the phone after the first ring. It was John. He smiled. "Hello?" he answered casually.

"Hey, Sherlock, how're things?" John's voice asked.

"They are, interesting, never been better."

"Good, good, that's good. Anything, um, _new_ at all?"

"I took in a stray, Kat." Sherlock responded, peeking in on said Kitty.

"Oh, a cat, lovely, good, small one is it?"

"Yes, she is so annoyingly small. She is clever though. I plan on bringing her with me on the next case."

"Right... She sounds lovely, Mary and I will be sure to stop by and see her when we get back, and you, of course. Well I'd better go, see you, Sherlock."

"Yes, you too, John." Sherlock hung up and without turning greeted Kitty with a, "How long have you been standing there, you should go back to sleep." She yawned. "Hunger pangs have a bad habit of waking me up." she pouted. He handed her a plate and she started eating like she hadn't eaten in days. _She probably hasn't,_ he thought.

"So John's going to come visit soon?" she asked.

"Yes, he wants to meet you." Sherlock responded. She sat quietly. He turned to work on an experiment. There haven't been any really good cases in a while, so he had lowered himself to doing simple experiments just to keep him from going mad. He did have a new distraction now, a distraction to keep him company. She could never replace John but after being so used to having someone always be there, it wasn't nice to be alone. Maybe she could be like his pet, his little stray kitten. She stayed quiet for quite a while. He turned to look at her and saw that she had fallen asleep. He picked her up and laid her in John's old bed and covered her over then shook out his head and went back to dissecting an eyeball.


End file.
